


Life in the Twenty Third Century

by ratcitylife



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-03 00:24:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8689417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ratcitylife/pseuds/ratcitylife
Summary: A series of drabbles about the Enterprise crew and related characters. Will add more tags as series continues.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Post five year mission. Jim visits his old mentor.

Four days after the five year mission ends, I walk to Christopher Pike's grave.

Earth, I think, is not paradise. It is not utopia. It is built on top of centuries of pain and blood and sacrifice, and there are more graveyards than perfection might suggest. Pike's ashes lie in the one reserved for important people: Starfleet Admirals, Federation Ambassadors, Intergalactic heroes. At the heart of San Francisco, the dead await for deep space arrivals, not so lucky as myself. They wait for the people that need to be carried home.

My father's grave marker, too, resides in the far corners of this site, but it's not his ship I've been looking after for the better part of a decade.

I walk to Christopher Pike's grave through the wrought iron kissing gate. I traverse through new graves with fresh flowers and ancient tombstones where time has weathered names illegible. Up the hill, across the gravel path, and there, at the end of the row, I find him where he's been waiting for six years. My boots shine, and my hair lays flat, and my gray uniform looks as pristine as though it were newly replicated. I place violets at his feet. I take off my hat and clench it between my fists.

Should I say something? I should say something.

"Hello." A breeze rustles the tree tops around us. "It's been awhile." I feel awkward speaking to the air. No one's listening, so who the hell cares? "I brought her home. Enterprise. In one piece," I say, "well, more or less. And, granted, it's Enterprise-A, but I never said I was perfect, and you wouldn't have believed me if I did." I almost expect a laugh or a snort, but Pike is only ashes now. There isn't anything funny about the burnt remnants of anything, let alone a person. "I'm sorry. You always told me I needed to learn when to take things seriously. Guess I fell short there, too."

I bend my knees and kneel down. My fingers brush over his name, engraved on granite in clean cut letters.

"I wish you could've been there to see us home. I thought I saw you once in the crowd, but it was a trick of the light, I think." What am I supposed to say? "A lot has changed since you've been gone. The things I've seen," I shake my head. "Black holes and the births of stars, civilizations end and rise, my ship in pieces, my crew rise again and again and again to meet any challenge in our path. I've seen the worst of the universe, and I've seen it at its very best, and all the while, at the back of my mind, I always ask myself 'What would Pike have said about this?'"

He says nothing now.

I pat his grave and pull myself back to attention. "It was good seeing you, sir." I nod down at him. It feels jerky and odd, as does my accompanying smile. Who exactly is it for? "Goodbye."

I walk away from Christopher Pike's grave, around the row, across the gravel path, down the hill, along the new and old graves, and through the kissing gate. I toss my hat into a recycling bin. I scuff my boots and loosen my uniform collar. I muse my hair with my fingers.

Earth is not paradise, and Christopher Pike is dead, but I am still Jim Kirk. The universe is infinitely expanding. I will always have more to see.


End file.
